


Charlie's Nightmare

by Kyky25



Category: The First Drafthouse (Toonkind D&D)
Genre: AU - Nightmare Fuel, Gen, M/M, i'm sure they'll all be verry annoyed/worried at him afterwards, maaaajor warnings for loneliness and unreality, someone forgot to tell Charlie to wear goggles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:42:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26614666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kyky25/pseuds/Kyky25
Summary: Charlie got access to The Engineer's nightmare fuel somehow. It doesn't go well.(Inspired by Larry and Tobias' ill-fated shenanigans in Sleepytime Junction)
Relationships: Charlie Black (Toonkind D&D)/Vincent Willoughby (Toonkind D&D)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 7





	Charlie's Nightmare

**Author's Note:**

> basically I saw a way to torment both Charlie and everyone on the server and I took it

It’s not a nightmare at first. It’s just a door opening, keys jingling in the lock, Charlie balancing groceries on his hip as he steps inside.

“I’m baaack!”

And that’s when the quiet dread sets in. It’s in the lack of a ‘what took you so long?’, in the absence of an impact to his legs as he’s not tackled by a small child before he even gets his other foot past the doorway. It’s in the gaping, gnawing emptiness of knowing, just  _ knowing _ that the flat is empty. That hollow pit in your stomach as the dream supplies you with knowledge of what this place is, how it works.

The door is now closed and the groceries forgotten.

Charlie drifts from room to room, checking everywhere he can think of. No point knowing things if he doesn’t check himself.

“Red? C’mon, Vin, where are you? Vincent?”

There are a lot more rooms than there should be in this place. Corridors twist and stretch and he’s checked the main bedroom three times now, all through different doors.

“Ellie? Come out, come out wherever you are!”

Charlie’s tone is trying to be light. His breath is trying to stay even. Neither attempts really work. When he checks Ellie’s bedroom again it’s barren, like it’s forgotten she’s meant to be here too. That’s the first time the door slams as he closes it.

He finds himself in the living room again, back to the front door, back to the engulfing emptiness of this ever-stretching apartment. A dull pain yawns in his stomach and he clutches at his, trying to stifle it for a moment longer as he holds his breath. He turns, opens the front door, and leaves.

* * *

Dodo studios is next. That’s always busy. There’s always people there. Always. Filming or editing or making props or recording music or practicing or or or or or just living there.

But there’s not.

The studio-shaped building stands there. Not a light. Not a whisper.

“Oi! Engie!” There’s not even an echo to comfort him. “Legs- Larry! Larry, come on! Where is everyone?”

“Mooves! Get your pecking stuipid glasses out here!”

“Shorty, Kid! Where’re you hiding?”

“Snail?”

  


“Tinies?”

  
  
  


“Anyone..?”

  
  
  
  
  


“...please?” 

* * *

Charlie paces the streets of an empty city. Fist clenched, arms tight over his torso. Pressing in. Pressing it down. He stopped breathing hours ago, but none of the pain is coming from his lungs.

Vin’s gone. Again. Again? Did he ever come back to begin with?

Thinking about Ellie feels like taking sandpaper to his brain. He’s not sure she ever existed.

He can’t find his friends. He can’t even find his enemies. He walks past a blank space where a building should and knows he can’t even curl up on his Nan’s rug and get tangled in the yarn of her latest project. He’s got nowhere to go.

Home.

Home, he’ll go home, and he’ll sleep and this’ll all be over. No, it’s not... it’s not  _ home _ home. Not with the way loneliness drips down the walls and clings to him like tar. But it’s... it’s somewhere.

Only when he opens the door-- no jingling keys, no precarious groceries-- he finds himself somewhere completely different, somewhere furiously buried beneath spite and drink and too many late nights. Somewhere the walls are stripped bare, the furniture sold. He’d think this place abandoned for months if he hadn’t just been there this morning. Years ago. Years ago this morning this place was his but not just his it was  _ theirs _ but now its not and Charlie’s arms ache with how tight he’s clutching at them because he can hear footsteps behind him and that never happened, she wasn’t  _ there, that was the whole POINT _ and he opens his mouth and tries to scream but it’s nothing, he’s nothing, not worth the air he’s not even breathing and he just needs someone,  _ anyone _ , even her and he whirls around, ready to bite his tongue and he

Stops.

The hallways are empty.

It always was.

That’s how this went.

And Charlie folds over, trembling, eyes shut tight. There’s no noise as his knees hit the floor. There’s no noise anywhere. As he presses tight to try and hold himself together, holding the emptiness in, he doesn’t even notice when he slips beneath the surface.

Silently, it engulfs him.


End file.
